A little late... Happy Holidays!

I hope everyone is having a very happy and relaxing holiday season! It really means so much to me that I will be able to spend it with my family after not seeing them for 6 months. The holidays really are just about spending time with the people you love, and who love you too (and maybe some spiked eggnog or Puritan mudslides!). I am just anxiously awaiting the moment when I get to meet my new niece, Ella June! Pictures are nice, but to be able to hold and smell and touch her will be so, so incredible.
I apologize for not keeping up with the blog in recent months. I will try and catch up as best I can, without being too boring. I have lived in Puerto Limon for a little over 3 months now. Time goes fast and slow here. I know that is really vague, but really true. Like everything in my life here, it’s one extreme or the other. It’s very hard to find balance in the middle (I’m told that will come with time, still waiting….). My days are usually really good, or really bad. But, even though the bad days come, they never last, and unfortunately, vica versa. For example, this week I had a really great Wednesday; a man fixed the charger for my computer for $3 when everyone else tried to rip me off, I sat in the mall food court and listened to Christmas music in English, I ran 8 miles for the first time since my last half marathon (more on that later!). I was happy. That night, however, I couldn’t sleep and felt tired and lethargic on Thursday; I felt like my Spanish didn’t make sense all day and I couldn’t understand anyone either, I went to a meeting that no one showed up to (happens quite a bit here!), and ended up getting into bed at 5pm and calling it a day. I had lunch with a Peace Corps friend today who explained it like this, “While we’re in the Peace Corps, we are all bipolar!” I couldn’t agree with her more! I just hope it doesn’t continue after Peace Corps.

Chris and Greg in Ecuador
Rewinding to October, I had my first visitors. They actually weren’t here to see me, more to explore South America, and had come to Ecuador to climb the mountain...hold on, let me get this correct… that is the closest point to the sun on Earth, Chimborazo, who’s summit is just over 20,000 feet. Shortly after, they accomplished Chim, I met them in Quito for some celebrating. It wasn’t the best time for visitors, as I was still in the “probation period” and wasn’t supposed to leave my site, but we were able to spend about a week together, nevertheless. Chris is a friend from New Hampshire and his travel buddy, Greg, was his friend who runs a computer consulting business out of Southern Florida. We spent a couple nights in Quito where we dined on as close to American food as you can get in Ecuador, had some drinks and did some dancing, as well as my personal favorite, went to the casino. The boys were not so fond of me when I put $5 into a penny slot machine. You know how long it takes to lose $5 at penny slots? I don’t know either. They dragged me out when I had about $3.50 left.
Our next adventure was Banos, which is a very touristy town in the valley of the Tungarahua Volcano, which is said to be active right now, but they have been saying that for the past 10 years. If it does erupt, it will dump tons of lava in the streets of Banos in minutes, completely destroying the town. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen at least for the next year and a half! Getting off the bus in Banos proved to be a bigger ordeal than any of us had hoped. Tired and weary from the 4 hour trip, Greg’s backpack with his computer and passport was left on the bus. By the time we had realized 5 minutes later, the bus was long gone. That bag wouldn’t be there even if this was the US, so we knew we had little hope in finding it. Turns out, we had gotten off at the last stop and sure enough, after a wild goose chase all over the Oriente, which lasted a good 12 hours, we cornered the bus driver’s assistant, the adalante, and he finally admitted he had taken it off the bus the night before. BUT not before agreeing to a $200 bribe for telling us where it was. So with an Ecuadorian police officer present, Greg got his bag back. To which the officer then asked Greg, don’t you want to give this man a reward for “watching” your bag? Greg reluctantly handed the adalante $200 for his OWN bag, and the adalante turned and gave the cop at least $50 of it. Latin American corruption at its finest.
Not wanting to spoil our trip to this beautiful place, later that day we took bikes from Banos toward Puyo, a town probably about 45 miles or so away. The ride is mostly downhill and you get to pass these unbelievable waterfalls and ride through tunnels where you can’t see a foot in front of you! I’d recommend it to anyone coming to Ecuador. In fact, I’d go with you. Again and again.

Bike Ride from Banos to Puyo.. Amazing Cascadas

Greg Crossing a not so safe Ecua bridge

Chris at the entrance to one of the tunnels

Pause
So I just took a break from writing this to go for a quick run since it was starting to get dark. (Did I mention in Ecuador the sun rises and sets at the same time everyday all year long? Never changes. I’m already bored. No seasons. No snow L ) Anyway, on my way back from my run I passed the park near my house and there was a small dead dog in the road. Presumably, it got hit by a car. So, I finished my run and walked back to the crime scene to take a closer look. Now if I saw a dead dog in the road in the states, it would tear me up. You hate to see that kind of stuff. But here, we have enough stray dogs to wipe out world wide famine. They are everywhere. So as I am watching another similar looking dog approaches the dead one. It was trying to push the dog, or move it, and all of a sudden I became really sad. I’m thinking, even this stray dog has a mother and its mother doesn’t understand why her child won’t wake up. My eyes were about to start watering when I looked underneath the dog… This wasn’t the dead dog’s mother at all! I was staring at a pink colored hot dog sticking out from the dog’s underside. That’s when it started. The obviously male dog began trying to have sex with the dead dog in the road. My look of sadness changed to a look of horror, as some Ecua men watched rooting the dog on! I thought, as I turned back to my house in disgust, sometimes the gap between man and dog is closer than man and ape, at least here in Ecuador.

Back to visiting Ecuador.. I think Chris and Greg had a good time while they were here. After Banos, we were able to visit a good friend of mine, Clay, another Peace Corps volunteer, who lives about 10 miles from me but lives in an incredibly indigenous community called the Tsachilas. Their history is long and they practice traditions as their ancestors did years ago. It’s really, really spectacular to see. They do have at least 1 TV in their community and electricity in a few of the cabins, but they try to stay isolated and keep their traditions. Unfortunately, their numbers are dwindling rapidly as Tsachilas are marrying Mestizos and younger generations don’t want to keep up the traditions that define their culture. On our visit, we were given traditional Tsachila skirts to wear and at night, we were cleansed by their Shaman. Soon after, we left the Tsachilas, it was time for Greg and Chris to embark on their next journey, Bogotá, Colombia, ending our week of travel and fun.

Clay with the Tsachila ninas.

Greg and Chris in Traditional Tsachila Garb drinking coconut milk

At the end of October, about 70 Peace Corps Ecuador volunteers and friends met in a little town in the Oriente called El Chaco for a Halloween/rafting party. I did not go rafting, due to some paperwork I failed to file ahead of time, but I did have a good time Halloweening. Everyone’s costumes were super creative. Myself included. My good friend, Alea and I decided to be the staples of Ecuadorian food, rice and potatoes. (you will not be served a meal in Ecuador without one of the two, or maybe both if your lucky… even at breakfast) So, she was rice. I was potatoes. I unfortunately only managed to stay awake until 11:30 pm, just when the party was getting started. 27 has really done a number on me.

Alea and I as Rice and Potatoes

Me, Kristen, and Alea

WORKING, If You Can Call It That
I realize I am only writing about times I am not in Puerto Limon. I should focus a bit on why the hell Im here, because sometimes I question it. Currently, I teach a dance team of about 12 girls, ages 9-11. That is the most regular thing I do so I thought I’d mention it first. I teach other dance classes too, but not as frequently, and I never know who is going to show up, if anyone at all. I really enjoy teaching my dance girls, but they want what most of us want, the result without the work. And some of them have never danced before in their life, so it’s challenging sometimes to say the least.
But, I did not travel thousands of miles from home to teach dance, as fun as that may sound. I am a health volunteer so I occasionally give lectures on nutrition and hygiene, mostly. (Why eating potatoes with rice over pasta isn’t the greatest food choice you could make.) I say occasionally, because I am still embarrassed sometimes about my Spanish. I always think of the times I have seen a group of foreigners at an amusement park in the States and they are taking a picture holding up the peace sign, speaking broken English. The same thing goes though most peoples head in that instant: that these people are somehow less intelligent that yourself or your colleagues. When in actuality we have no idea. They could have just invented a computer program, sold it to Bill Gates, and took their whole company to Disneyworld to celebrate. But it’s the initial image that sticks with us. That is how I feel here. People treat me, talk to me, talk about me like I am a stupid, rich, American girl who gets nauseous at the site of raw meat hanging in the front of stores. (which has happened) So, I practice my Spanish with people I can trust in the community. And its getting better. And I am gaining confidence. And I will be giving a lot more lectures on the importance of the basic food groups soon enough J
I also meet with a group of jovenes (teenagers), who actually want to create change and challenge ideas and custom that people follow because that is just how its always been. Like trash for instance. Puerto Limon is a beautiful town in the rainforest (I know Dad, rainforest is a madeup word.. Jungle 2), but its filthy. People have no idea, no concept, that throwing trash on the ground is unsightly, dirty, and unsanitary. When I have questioned litterers, they say, that is just our custom. I say…. bull. So my jovenes and I are in the process of creating a Limpia La Limon dia (clean the lemon day, as in Puerto Limon) I’ll let you know how it works out. Something tells me it’s going to be me and my jovenes cleaning up the streets of Puerto Limon solo. But we shall see.
I’m also in the process of surveying 50 families in my town about various issues and problems to see what I need to focus on most. There are a lot of pregnant 15 year olds, so I think that will definitely be a start. And for a town of 2000 people, we have 2 whorehouses. I think, along with littering, that should be a custom that needs to die, quickly. Some of the prostitutes have already tested positive for HIV, but yet they are still in business. Maybe it’s something in the water down here?

This is trash dumped off the side of a road right in front of my house leading down to the river. Many birds, iguanas, and other wildlife are frequent visitors.

Siempre Atras, Nunca Adalante.
Back to fun time Ecua style. The province I live in is called Santo Domingo de los Tsachilas. It is also the name of the capital of the province as well as the cluster I’m in. Basically, my cluster is made up of maybe 8 volunteers that all live near Santo Domingo, we get our mail there, shop there, and occasionally have “cluster” meetings. Our last one was in Mindo, a wonderful little town infamous for its bird watching, nature walks, and artesian. While there, we went zip lining over a beautiful canopy in the jungle. Since I have done zip lining many times before, I decided I was experienced enough to video tape my voyage across the canyon. Halfway through I almost dropped my camera and with one hand grabbed it and the other touched the cable in front of me. Of course, I ran over my finger with the wheel and harness I was strapped into. I was wearing gloves so when I finally got to the other side the attendant slowly pulled off my glove in case the tip of my finger was detached… I kid you not. Luckily, all I got was a cut and a bruised ego for trying to act like an expert. But I guess I was very lucky because, as the attendant told me, the same thing had happened his friend and ten minutes later he was on the way to the hospital with his detached fingers on ice! So siempre atras, nunca adalante. (always in back never in front) should your hands be when touching the cable. I won’t forget that lesson anytime soon! But we had a great time in Mindo nevertheless. I sorta can’t believe they place volunteers there at all. It’s a big tourist stop and one I will frequent upon the arrival of more friends and family.

Me and Sam at a waterfall near Mindo, in her site, Pacto

The Zip Lining Crew

Quito Marathon and Cows Blood with Thanksgiving
I ran the Quito half marathon in just over 2 hours. Not my best time for a half marathon but besides getting on that plane to Ecuador, was the toughest thing I’ve ever done. Quito is about 10,000 feet above sea level; that is almost double Denver. And if you tried to exercise in Denver without acclimating, it can be difficult. This was downright painful. I stopped talking about mile 2. Which, everyone who knows me when I run, I love LOVE to talk. You can catch up on someone’s whole life during a long run. The one thing that made it bearable was that the whole run was pretty flat, that is, until the last 3 km. There was a huge hill getting to the finish line. I have never seen so many people walk across a finish line in my life, well except maybe during a walk.

Sorry its sideways, but you get the idea. Finished the race at the Equator. Midad del Mundo is behind me

I bet your wondering what cows blood has to do with running. Nothing. I just thought I’d speed things up a bit. My hair is falling out. I don’t know why. People say stress, but I highly doubt that because I actually work, like do real work, maybe 15 hours a week. What do I have to be stressed about? Getting food poisioning? Had it twice, not that bad. Some other disease or parasite? Maybe, but its always the ones you aren’t expecting that you get. Living in Ecuador for the rest of my life? Absolutely not. It’s growing on me, but not that much. Could have been diet, because it was poor for the time I wasn’t cooking for myself. But I’ve cooked for myself for the last 3 months and no change. My guess is the water. My hair is thin and vulnerable anyway. Untreated water can’t help it very much. Anyway, when I presented my problem, my host mom assured me she knew a solution. Cow’s blood. It will make my hair thicker and give me the nutrients to prevent my hair from falling out. When in Ecuador…. What do I have to lose? Already lost most my hair (just kidding its not that bad). Pictures are definitely included in this one. I let Carmen put cow’s blood in my hair, cringing as it dripped down my face, onto my clothes, and having to smell it. It smelled like cutting open a fish that was caught yesterday, enough to even now, make my hair stand up on my arms. The worst part, I had to leave it for an hour. So I sat outside looking like something from a Freddy Crugar movie reading my book for an hour until I could wash it out… which I did, for about another hour. Did it work? I am going to have to say no. I admire the valiant effort but I guess I will just have to get used to my tiny little ponytail.

As you can see Thanksgiving is another topic. I believe this blog is long enough, however, so I will try and give the shortest version possible. And, let me just say, if you’ve read through this whole thing from the beginning, you may acquire Saint Status. I had Thanksgiving dinner with about 7 other Peace Corps Volunteers randomly selected to go to the 2ond to the Ambassador’s house. I don’t know what his title is except for Number 2, I guess. Every person who holds this position gets this house as a perk, and what a perk it was! It had an indoor pool, hibachi grille (which they have never used), countless bedrooms, a cook and maids; definitely much different that what we are used to in Ecuador. But, the people who work at the embassy can only hold their position at that specific embassy for 3 years. So before the Chrittons were in Ecuador, they were in Uganda, and before that Chile. AND they have 3 kids. I remember in high school thinking my parents were the most evil people in the world because they wanted me to spend the summers in York Beach. Just the summer. So, I had a great time speaking with their family and learning their family dynamic… you have to be pretty close to you siblings when you only have friends for 3 years at a time. Dinner was spectacular. By far the best meal I’ve had since I’ve been in Ecuador. The Chrittons were so generous to let us into their home and celebrate Thanksgiving with them. It was the first holiday that has passed that I haven’t desperately wanted to be back in the States.

Our Thanksgiving Family

With the good comes the ugly… Later that night, a few of us went to a casino. This time I didn’t play penny slots. I was actually winning at black jack, until I was losing, but that’s beside the point. Afterward we went to meet more friends at a bar in Quito. We stayed there dancing until about 2am. All of us were walking back to the hotel which was only a few blocks away when my friend Ryan asked me if I wanted to stop and get pizza… um of course. Nothing’s better to follow a night of drinking, dancing, and gambling (Granny, I hope your not reading thisJ). With our other friend 3 minutes ahead of us we turned the corner to get to the hotel, and we already felt it before it happened. 2 black Ecuadorian men grabbed Ryan’s shoulder, while another one was approaching me. I did what I do best, I guess. I ran. I ran in high heels as fast as I possibly could. And I guess it was fast enough because when I got to then end of the street no one was behind me. I still had my purse, camera, money, and phone. I jumped in a cab that was turning left to take a man home and tried to explain my situation. I kept looking back and although it was dark, saw Ryan on the ground with the 3 men surrounding him. I told the cabbie to put the cab in reverse because we were on a one way. His response was that it wasn’t his problem and he didn’t want to get involved. I was so mad and so helpless at the same time. Finally, the men ran off and I jumped out of the cab to see Ryan on his feet, yelling in Spanish at a security guard who was standing on the other side of the street as the whole incident took place. He had a gun and a dog but did nothing. He did nothing. He told Ryan his jurisdiction was in front of the building he was standing at, on that specific side of the street. No more. Ultimately, the 3 men weren’t able to rob Ryan. He said every time they would reach for his pockets he would punch them in the balls. Which I guess worked. He has a couple cuts on his face, but they just make him look tough. And he has a pretty incredible story to tell. They may as well make another Rocky movie and call it Rocky Ryan. In all seriousness, questions have come up in my head since the incident. Like, why didn’t they grab me first? I was an easier target. And once they had me, Ryan wasn’t going anywhere. I’m glad I don’t know the answer. But part of me thinks there’s gotta be a guardian angel out there with my name on it!

Anyway, thanks for reading…. Have a Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah. May your guardian angel fly close and may all your dreams come true for 2009.